Home
by YaoiCrackHead123
Summary: Sherlock gets locked out. Terrible terrible description, read to find out what happens. John/Sherlock One Shot Inspired by the song "Home" by Edward Sharpe & The Magnetic Zeros Something I wrote about a year ago and never put up.


_Now recite it again John, what are you going to do today? Punch out at 7, walk to the Tesco, go to the apartment, shower, sleep. Don't think about Sherlock. Don't think about sherlock. Don'tthinkaboutsherlock. Don'tthinkabout-_

John stopped his thinking, sadly the most thinking he did since "The Fall". HIs mind had seemed to stop working and the only way to make it function was to consciously think about what to do next. But now, his thoughts were interrupted... Footsteps. This was London at 6am, there were quite a few people walking to work as well but there was something about the clicking steps echoing off the alley walls that were just so painfully familiar that he had to stop walking. The halt had been so abrupt that a person whom had been walking behind him collided into his back with a 'tsk' before going around and walking ahead of him. What the hell was this? If he was so damn curious, why couldn't he turn around? The foot steps slowed and finally stopped but still John didn't turn around. John closed his eyes and took in a slow deep breath before opening his eyes determinedly._ Damn it John you are a doctor and a soldier. Now turn around._ John finally turned and jumped back when he realized who ever had been following him was now standing directly in front of him.

The soldier in him instinctively placed his hand over the gun tucked away in his jeans. When Sherl- When HE had been alive, John would only carry the gun around during cases but now it was a constant weight pressing into his back. There were times when he had nothing to do but sit and think, so to keep his mind from the track it always took, he would delve into his own mind for the reasons he actually carried around the thing now that danger wasn't around every corner. John tried to convince himself it was simply just precaution or just habit but there was always something in the back of his mind saying _"Just in case. Just in case. Just in case you can't stand it anymore"_ and as that voice became louder and louder John would turn on the telly and get a cup of tea going, consciously telling himself to make only one cup and that would be the end of that.

But at this moment that little voice was starting to make sense because the only way this could even be possible would be if he was having a nervous break down and hallucinations were causing him to see the tall lithe figure before him. John stumbled back, eyes as big as saucers and stared slack jawed. The sound of the rushing traffic and other occupants of the street kept him from whipping his gun out and pointing it at the hallucinations head for even having the **gall **to have _that man's_ face. The obviously Impossible-To-Be-Real man didn't make a move to back away or come forward, even if it was obvious by the way his gaze flicked over to where John's hand was still resting on his gun that he was aware that he could possibly be shot at that moment, his eyes only raked over every feature of the ex-soldier as if memorizing it all.

And that gaze, that infuriatingly thorough gaze that made you feel like all the secrets you ever wanted to keep hidden were being ripped right out of your head. That gaze... that made everyone feel uncomfortable but made John feel anything but and felt so familiar and made John feel like he was finally... _home._ Even if it was a hallucination, it was enough to make the good doctor feel as if his legs were about to give out under him and he would break down in tears. But he couldn't very well do that in the middle of the street now could he? He was not only an ex-soldier and doctor but he was also English and breaking down in the middle of a crowded street was just something you didn't do- at least more than once in your life- even if you were having a nervous break down and seeing the man who you saw jump off 10 or so story building and it just so happen to be the man you've contemplated shooting yourself over, even then. So John did the British thing and turned around and continued on his way, listening to the foot steps once again resuming behind him.

And once again John had to consciously tell himself not to think about the hallucination behind him. It didn't work.

John could feel his heart rate rapidly increasing and his vision going a bit hazy as all the faces around him began to blur together. His breathing came out in quick pants and he clenched his shaking hands before sliding into an alleyway as if that was the place he had planned to go all along. He leaned his back against the wall, hands on his knees while he tried to keep himself from hyperventilating and there was that long silhouette with that damned billowing coat just watching. John watched the figure, pinning it to the entrance of the alleyway but it was almost like staring at the sun, he finally looked away and felt a sob he hadn't realized had been slowly rising from deep within his belly. John quickly covered his mouth to keep anymore unwelcome sounds and listened to those once oh so confident steps approach him but this time slowly and just a hint of hesitance sounding in each click until the man was standing against the opposite wall, watching him.

John felt another body shaking sob that he just couldn't keep down "Why now... Why NOW of all times!? Its been two and half BLOODY years! Why now!?" he screamed and rubbed painfully hard at his right eye that would just not comply with John's order to stay dry "I thought I was doing so well... I thought I was getting better. So why in the world would I fall off my rocker now of all times" he said and chuckled to himself humorlessly, his voice sounded hallow and depressing. "You... think I am an illusion" the man stated in that deep voice, that John just wasn't prepared to hear or was even expecting to hear so needless to say John jumped quite visibly. John let another chuckle this one breaking at the end "Brilliant deduction" he said, the words tasted so familiar in his mouth but it was as if they had just come out of the oven and were scolding the inside of his mouth until he'd be unable to taste anything for weeks.

Sherlock opened his mouth as if to say something but hesitated then in a split second decision said what he wanted to say "John..." the emotion in Sherlock's voice caused John to stand up with his back pressed to the wall so he could look into the man's eyes properly. The raven haired consulting detective did not say anything for a few seconds, as if savoring the name on his tongue before he continued, the statement so simple but hit John so hard it was as if he'd been punched in the stomach.

"I'm alive."

The two ex-flatmates were silent for a long while simply staring at each other, John trying to figure out what it was he was feeling at that moment and Sherlock waiting for a reaction. Any reaction. He definitely got it.

One second everything is still and the next Sherlock has stumbled sideways and gripping his cheek with a slightly surprised and pained cry. John let out his own pained cry and gripped his wrist and shook off the pain in his knuckles "Bloody fucking christ!" John cursed from the pain and then realization that he hadn't been hallucinating and that his... whatever Sherlock was to him, was in fact still alive and was probably in quite a lot of pain considering John's knuckle had blood on it and was throbbing like all hell. "Jesus CHRIST SHERLOCK! Just- I mean- JESUS! You've been alive this whole time!? Do you HAVE even the SLIGHTEST CLUE WHAT I'VE BEEN THROUGH!" John was now screaming and red faced, not at all caring if anyone saw or came or called the police.

John stood panting, staring at Sherlock and opened his mouth as if to scream more abuse but he clamped his mouth shut, breathing through his nose and straightened and quietly turned and _bolted_ out of the alleyway and down the street back towards his small flat. Luckily he hadn't gotten too far from the flat before Sherlock had begun to follow him because within seconds he could hear the commotion of people being pushed aside as the consulting detective ran after him but John had, by some miracle, had his hand around the key in a second and got said key into the lock in one go before running through the shared building to the flat he'd been living in for 2 years now. He reached the end of the hall where his door was and once again the gods apparently were on his side because he had the door unlocked within 3 seconds, but Sherlock and his damned spidery long legs had been too fast and he had reached the building just as John got the lock to give away. He tried to push the door open but the rusty thing got stuck as it sometimes did and John gave out a cry of frustration because Sherlock was right bloody there and with one rough push John pushed the door open and quickly went to close it just as Sherlock had reached it.

Sherlock pressed all his weight against the door while John used all his strength to get it closed "John just let me explain!" the consulting detective begged as he pushed with all his might "No Sherlock, just go away!" the doctor yelled and with one finally push the door slammed shut in Sherlock's face and in a swift flick John locked the door. John leaned his forehead against the door, panting heavily and listened to the very alive ex-flatmate on the other side panting as well and probably in a similar position as the good doctor. Sherlock placed his hand on the door, a look of pain crossing his features "John... please" the man begged, something that Holmes men **never **did, but John was the exception. Always has been. Sherlock closed his eyes and sighed and weakly knocked "John, please let me in" he said through the door.

John slowly backed away from the door, legs shaking as the adrenaline slowly drained from his body and he slumped to the carpeted floor, staring at the door silently while Sherlock continued knocking and begging for John to open the door but John just pulled his knees to his chest and stared. After an hour Sherlock gave up his knocking and one of the many insecure voices in his head said "you really are crazy, he was never there" and "whats the point of all this? Do you really think you can live the rest of your life with this hallucination following you around?" John slowly stood, shaking the numbness from his legs and reached behind him to rest his hand lightly on the gun still tucked away in his jeans, already steeling himself for what he would most likely have to do if he found the whole ordeal had been in his head. John approached cautiously, reaching for the lock hesitantly, and stopped abruptly when he heard a huff from behind the door but it sounded much lower than he'd heard from Sherlock before.

Sherlock sat on the floor plopped up against the wall beside the door frame, ignoring any strange looks he had received and luckily no one seemed to be calling the Yard just yet. He sat with one leg stretched out in front of him and the other with his foot flat on the floor and his arm resting on his bent knee "you know, I contemplated just staying dead. Living an unfathomably dreary life, I'd probably drive myself mad but to avoid the way you were in that alley... I would've" he said through the door, knowing full well that John was right there and could hear him clearly. Sherlock rested his head back lightly against the wall, getting comfortable for the long long wait he'll most likely have to sit through. On the other side of the door he heard a heavy exhausted sigh and then shuffling, Sherlock could almost see John on the other side of the door, resting in a similar position as himself. Sherlock stayed silent, not sure about where to start, whether he should apologize or tell him the story from before The Fall or maybe even tell him that Mycroft knew the whole time just to deflect some of John's anger to his infuriating elder brother.

But before Sherlock could come up with an answer he heard more shifting through the door and a light thunk as something was plopped down on the presumably carpeted floor of John's floor and Sherlock knew immediately that it was John's service revolver. There was another soft thunk as John leaned his right temple lightly against the door separating them "Do you know how many times I've set this damn thing down on my desk, sat on my perfectly made bed and just sat up and stared at it, wondering whether or not I was really strong enough? Strong enough to keep living the way I was living" he said through the door, the words were not particularly loud but it sounded like screaming to Sherlock's ears.

Sherlock let out a shuddering sigh that he knew John could hear but didn't say anything in reply. "Nearly every night. For two years. I'm sure with your massive intellect you can figure out how many times that is approximately" his voice slightly bitter. Sherlock grit his teeth and felt his heart drop deep into his stomach and placed his hand on the door once again lightly as if hoping John could feel him through the wood. Sherlock leaned his head on the door as well in a similar way as John "Please John, I need you to understand... I didn't want to hurt you... I was trying to protect you" the broken way that Sherlock spoke kept the anger from rising in John's throat in the form of screaming or yelling. The tone wasn't obvious, it probably sounded very normal to other's but it sounded as if Sherlock was crying to his ears and that's how the doctor was sure this wasn't acting.

"Well then Sherlock, you know me, I'm apart of that group of people you consider so ordinary and small-minded, so explain to me in simple terms how you consider this not hurting me" he said a hint of annoyance in his voice but he was sure Sherlock could hear the slight catch that was begging Sherlock to explain, to MAKE him understand why the detective had done what he did. Sherlock took a deep breath, preparing for the long story he'd known he'd have to tell. He first made John promise not to interrupt until his story was over, then he began. From the notes Moriarty left him, to figuring out just what he had wanted Sherlock to do, to his plan to separate from John so that he could meet JIm on the roof (a sharp breath could be heard from behind the door at that bit), to the assassins whom were situated to kill those Sherlock cared about if he didn't jump, he even explained how Molly had helped fake his death and Mycroft had gotten him out of the country. He ended his story with "and then all I had to do was... jump" a far off look in his eyes. He could hear John's breathing which was now erratic through the door and even heard a sharp sob.

John curled his legs close to his body, the memories of that day and all the pain that came with it flooding back with just that one last sentence. He covered his mouth to keep those hated noises inside his body. He could hear Sherlock sigh "John, please stop crying" "I am not crying! I'm... I'm a soldier... for Christ's sake..." he started out strong before deflating, already feeling tears sliding down his cheeks. Sherlock was silent for a few minutes "So... do you understand why I did it?" he asked hesitantly. John stayed silent for just as long "Oh I understand-" Sherlock released a breath he didn't know he was holding "-but I don't forgive you" Sherlock opened his mouth to argue and before he could even get a word out John was already ready for it "No Sherlock, I'm upset and even if you were trying to protect me, there must have been another way! You could have told me! I could have tried to help you or gone with you if you'd just told me!" John said through the door unable to help the rise in his voice "The HELL I've been living is nothing compared to... to a sniper's bullet in my brain" he said the last part barely above a whisper.

Sherlock growled in frustration and banged his fist on the door "There wasn't another choice! Don't you see, I couldn't tell you because he'd know and he'd take you from me! I can't be alone again!" he yelled back with much more desperation in his voice than he'd meant to reveal, he quickly clamped his lips shut and hoped he hadn't scared John away, not when he was finally able to hear John's voice after so long. John didn't speak and for a few painful seconds Sherlock held his breath and waited to hear if John would leave or stay with him. And finally he heard another heavy exhale. "Sherlock, do you remember the time you nearly blew up the microwave?" the doctor asked softly, a light quirk in his lips at the memory "I believe you were so exhausted and so food deprived that you stuck a tray of eyeballs in the microwave in one of those metal take away containers. I came running out of my room when the fire alarm was going off and there you were asleep at the kitchen table while the microwave was sparking, blissfully ignorant of the blaring fire alarm. Had to get a new microwave after that you know, you insufferable git" he said chuckling lightly. Sherlock stared at the door in astonishment at the sudden change in topic but couldn't keep the small smirk off his face at the memory and how angry John had been at him over that. "Yes. I remember, well the parts where I was conscious" he said the last part with a slight grimace "It was one of the rare unfortunate times I couldn't control my body's natural need for sleep" he grumbled, a soft laugh that immediately made Sherlock's heart rate stop and then double came from the other side of the door. "Well that was because you had pissed me off about something or other so I hadn't gotten the chance to make you go to bed before you did something stupid, guess I learned right quick" he said with genuine laughter in his voice.

Sherlock listened closely, memorizing and re-memorizing that laugh, filing it away safe and sound in his mind palace "You know... I never realized until this moment just how much I had missed that noise" he said into the thick silence, Sherlock immediately cringed, thinking he'd said too much. But little did he know it was quite the opposite and after a few moments John finally said "I never realized but, so did I" more to himself than to Sherlock. Sherlock wasn't quite sure what John meant but decided not to ask and just enjoyed that John was beside him once again, albeit with a door between them.

Sherlock decided to keep it going "Do you remember Buckingham Palace?" A smile already in his voice, a small laugh could be heard from the other side of the door "How could I forget! You were in only a sheet with the possibility of a royal passing by at any moment!" John bursted out laughing and slowly Sherlock did the same "you know I still have that ash tray" John added and the two erupted in a fit of giggles that you wouldn't imagine were coming from a pair of (usually) mature adults. "I ought to smash it over your head" came from John before he could stop. The silence was deafening.

"you can if you like" Sherlock replied, completely prepared for any punishment as long as he'll eventually be forgiven. John jumped softly, not realizing he'd said that out loud, he drew in a deep breath and decided to change the subject. "have you, you know, told anybody else about the whole 'not being dead' thing?" He asked, already feeling this was a bad choice for the conversation to go but he had to know, had to know if he was the only one that didn't know the great Sherlock Holmes was in fact breathing and not 6 feet under. John bit the inside of his cheek as a way to slow down his heart rate or to make it start beating again, he wasn't really sure what it was doing at that moment. "only you" John audibly released a breath "only those people who helped me already knew. Which of the people you know that would be Molly and brother dearest" Sherlock spat out the last words venomously. John couldn't help laughing "so even after all that, you still detest him so much?" He asked "Not that I'm complaining, the prat is the one helped put you in the situation in the first place" he added, an annoyed look crossing his face. "Yes well, he did contribute quite a bit but Miss Adler was much more helpful" John made a sputtering noise at the mention of THE woman's name, the one he'd been told was dead "Oh did I not mention her? Well yes, she was very helpful in tracking the web. Do keep up John" he said quickly, trying to cover up his confession, knowing John would be upset. And right he was.

"Are you joking!? So not only did you know she was alive but you asked her for help over ME!? Really! Well isn't this just splendid" he growled in frustration, gripping his hair in frustration "I mean I'm obviously not your best friend or anything. Picking that... That... That woman who drugged you and betrayed you but apparently she's just far more trust worthy than the man who would follow you anywhere and shoot an innocent man for you but oh no, guess not" he ranted but didn't move from the floor. John's heavy breathing filled the silence "are you done?" Sherlock asked but not in the condescending way someone might ask during a fight, it sounded like a genuine question in case there was more John wanted to get off his chest before Sherlock went on with his explanation.

A sigh came from the other side of the door "yeah" John replied, feeling slightly better after a bit of yelling, not that he thought it was nearly enough. "Well Miss Adler was very vital to my progress in destroying Moriarty's web, I would've been gone quite a while longer than merely 2 and half years" he started "She was believed to be dead by just about everyone but me so no one would be watching her and even when in hiding she couldn't quite keep her fingers out of the cookie jar" he said a fond smiling crossing his face. John couldn't see Sherlock's face but he could hear the affection in the man's voice and felt his heart stutter and drop into his stomach, John gasped lightly in horror when he realized he had been wishing Adler had just been dead and self loathing rose deep within him. He put his head in his hands and sighed "I see" he responded tightly, unable to force him heart back into its proper place.

Sherlock raised a brow curiously at John's reaction then creased his brow in annoyance at the fact that he couldn't see John's face to receive an accurate deduction "...you're upset" he said confidently "...at me?" He asked rather than stated as he normally would, another exhausted sigh could be heard "Not... Exactly" John huffed already feeling certain this would lead somewhere he was not prepared to go but too late, Sherlock was intrigued. "You are upset that I allowed her to be apart of my plan and not you" he said so bluntly it actually stung "But I explained to you, I had no choice! If I could have brought you in, I would have but even after my... The incident, you were still being watched" he explained with wild melodramatic hand gestures that John couldn't see but knew for sure were happening. John sighed and crossed his arms "relax Sherlock, I know you explained, I understand, I'm just being bloody stupid like usual" the end of the sentence had come out harsher than he had meant and flinched when it came out. Oops.

"John. You are not smarter than Irene Adler. You two are absolutely nothing alike" John clenched his fists and opened his mouth to retort in anger and leave but Sherlock was already speaking again "but if you were, I doubt I'd like you very much at all" Sherlock thought about his odd happiness when he'd heard John laugh after such a long time "Plus you'd look bloody awful in her dresses with all that gunk on your face." Sherlock grinned when he heard the stifled laugh "really Sherlock, gunk?" He asked with a chuckle. "Well what else could there be to call it, really John?"

John bursted out laughing once again and he had no clue as to why, all he knew was it was amazing to hear Sherlock laughing just as loud behind the door. "You know I'm either going to be kicked out or have the police called on me before the night is over" he said with a chuckle then grimaced when he felt his phone vibrate for the 10th time to reveal that work was calling him once again "or possibly lose my job" he mumbled and turned his phone on silent. "Well that is one way to inform the detective inspector" Sherlock said a mischievous smirk growing on his lips. John could practically feel the thoughts swirling through the wood "Oh no you don't, as much as it'd be funny to see Greg faint, to make a joke of telling him you're alive would be cruel" he said frowning at the memory of Sherlock's funeral. The smirk was immediately wiped from Sherlock's face and he sighed "You're right" John lifted a brow in surprise "I am?" Which was the natural reaction to a Holmes admitting they were wrong "I mean of course I'm right" he added quickly.

They went silent for a long time after that, just thinking but finally, after going deep into his mind palace, Sherlock had decided what he wanted to say. "John?" He asked softly "Yeah?" Was the whispered response "Do you remember the day we were chasing that serial burglar?" He asked. "You mean the one where you sprained your ankle and nearly got stabbed and shot?" John clarified, Sherlock chuckled and the sound filled up the space

"Yes that one."

"What about it?"

"Do you remember what you did when we got home?"

Silence

"You pushed me down, told me to stop bring a baby and fixed me up like the doctor you are"

"Then you did the same for me..."

"Yes, I don't know what came over me but watching you struggle and seeing those bruises and cuts made me move before I knew what I was doing. But there was something I didn't tell you while you sat there and let me bandage you up"

"What didn't you tell me? Please tell me you didn't put some unknown virus into my system or something"

Silence

"Sherlock?"

"I realized... I was falling deeply in love with you" the consulting detective whispered through the door, voice lacking in its normal confidence. During the time in his mind palace he went through the two monstrously sized rooms that were just for things 'John' and pulled out the box of evidence that John was interested in Sherlock as well and for once, the evidence wasn't enough to assure him John wouldn't through him out of his life forever now. The thick silence felt heavy on Sherlock and for a moment he wondered if he'd stopped breathing. Perhaps breathing wasn't so boring...

"... Do you mean that?" A small voice asked through the door and without even an ounce of hesitation the madman replied "yes" silence once again fell "John... Let me come home" he said softly as if speaking to a frightened animal that might run away at any moment. "... I don't live at Baker street anymore" John whispered back, sounding almost regretful, like it was a shameful secret. Sherlock resisted the habitual instinct to say "obviously" but instead he placed his hand on the smooth wood, hoping John could somehow feel it "You know that's not what I meant..." And John did, because he was the same. Sherlock didn't stand up, only moved his hand away from the door when he heard shuffling from behind the door, he looked up as the door was unlatched and swung inwards. The consulting detective stared up at his Blogger silently, noting every detail of the man's face.

Tear streaks. Puffy eyes. Ruffled hair. All indications of crying and stress. Clenched jaw. Indicates anger or discomfort. Possibly both. Could've kept the door closed if he was planning to make him leave but instead he opened the door. Could indicate letting him in or telling him to leave to his face, which knowing John he'd rather do.

All of these uncertainties flew through his head in a second, even with all the data he had on John's attraction to him were not enough to keep Sherlock from coming up with worse case scenarios and Sherlock did not deal with uncertainty well. Sherlock was a second away from saying he'd been lying and that John was an idiot for thinking he was serious and just leaving with his heart-broken for the first and last time with his dignity firmly in place. Well it would be for all of 10 seconds until he got outside and broke down crying in front of a crowded London street. Luckily, good old John spoke at just the right moment. John always did just the right thing at just the right time.

"Well are you coming in or what?" The good doctor asked and crossed his arms across his chest. Sherlock's thick brows rose into his hairline in a rare moment of surprise, he quickly forced his brows back into their proper place and put on an expression of blankness. He cleared his voice in an uncomfortable fashion "Well, it appears... I've gone considerably numb..." He reluctantly admitted and hearing the laugh that resulted nearly made Sherlock's hands shake with relief.

John offered his hands, Sherlock stared at the hands before looking at John's face then back at the hands again. John flicked his hands about insistently and rolled his eyes "Will you come on you great tall git" he said with a tone of playfulness, Sherlock hesitated, worrying that this was all a ruse and John would suddenly become hostile but quickly banished the thought. He knew John and John was not cruel. He took the hands more confidently and was hauled up to his feet with a surprising amount of strength. The consulting detective grabbed the door frame as he fell forward but not in time to stop himself from being chest to chest to the man he'd just confessed to not moments before and the familiar heat, the heat he didn't realize he'd missed quite so much until this very moment, was nearly enough to turn his legs to full blown jelly.

Sherlock stared down at the shorter man and John stared right back, neither moved away "...You don't appear to have lost any muscles in your arms. I'm impressed" Sherlock commented before he could tell his mouth to do other wise but he was lacking in things to say and his observations were slipping out "You have more gray in your hair, more dark circles and you've gained some weight. You haven't been sleeping" he said with a frown still looming over the doctor. John glanced away but then forced himself to look Sherlock in the eye "Well you certainly know how to woo a girl don't you" he joked nervously. It wasn't as if John couldn't get out of the situation but his legs were not listening to his mind at the moment.

Sherlock's frown deepened and he leaned forward until their foreheads touched "oh John..." He said sadly. John felt an odd rush of anger at the tone "Stop it. Stop it right this minute! I will not accept your pity" the soldier in him was baring his teeth and was using their current position to glare angrily and act as if they were going to fight. Sherlock sighed exhaustedly and placed a hand on John's cheek, immediately soothing the soldier but also causing his heart to triple in speed "Its not like that... I'm not like everyone else John, because remember, you weren't the only one alone..." Sherlock said softly, voice sounding more emotional than John had ever heard a voice sound and he knew Sherlock wasn't lying. Maybe John hadn't been the only one feeling like this. John leaned into the touch slightly.

"I don't forgive you, you know" of course he didn't, maybe he never would. But Sherlock could work with that. He'd work with whatever John had to offer. Sherlock smiled softly "I know" and he finally leaned in and captured the doctor's lips with his own. It was a closed mouth, relatively innocent kiss, but there were so many emotions erupting from both parties that it was amazing an explosion didn't occur from the sheer magnitude of it all. John curled his fingers into the thick dark curls and held on desperately as if to keep Sherlock from disappearing, while the consulting detective kept one large pale hand on the doctor's cheek and his other arm was tightly curled around the smaller man's waist, holding so tight it hurt, but neither minded much. Sherlock was the first to pull away, panting softly, looking over John's face desperately, looking for any sign of regret or disgust, anything that told him John didn't want this. There was none. John smiled softly and gently petted down the curls on Sherlock's head that were now sticking up in different places from his desperate grip "come on Sherlock. Let's go home..." He said softly and moved from the consulting detective's arms and gently took the larger hand in his own and lead Sherlock into the flat as if the man were a lost frightened child. And really, that's what Sherlock was.

"I think... It's time for a nap" John said with an exhausted chuckle, he led Sherlock to his room where only a twin bed sat in the corner, meticulously made, obviously made by a soldier. Sherlock hadn't said a word and John finally looked at the man and he looked... Absolutely lost and terrified. He squeezed John's hand painfully tight but the doctor didn't complain. John smiled reassuringly and stepped up close to the man, he reached forward and cautiously opened up the large black coat, slipped it off and onto the floor before doing the same to the scarf, he then took off his own jumper and lead the man to the bed. He laid down before scooting over and patting the bed.

It was a tight fit, but John highly doubted either of them would complain. Sherlock slipped out of his shoes and slowly laid down, still full of uncertainty, John reached over and grabbed the consulting detective's arms and placed them around his body then placed his own arms around Sherlock's waist and buried his face in the milky white collar bone. He inhaled deeply and heard Sherlock do something similar to John's hair and then a noise ripped through the silence. A heart breaking sob and for a terrifying moment John thought it was him again but when he felt the body beside him shaking heavily he knew for sure it was not his own throat making those sad sounds.

John frowned deeply and moved up the bed slightly so their faces were level, he left small kisses all over the lanky man's face, desperate for the noise to stop "Come on, its okay. Please Sherlock, don't cry" John begged, his doctor and soldier side completely failing him at the sight of the normally controlled madman before him shedding tears. Real tears. John placed his hand on one of the high cheek bones and wiped the hair from Sherlock's eyes, Sherlock peaked through blurry eyes and just clutched John close, shoving his face into John's neck and curled his body around John like some great big cat.

John huffed affectionately and moved his arms back around Sherlock "Its okay Sherlock, you're okay" John placed his chin on the consulting detective's head "It's okay" he ran his fingers through the thick curls and could already feel the large man's body slacken as sleep won out.

"We're home."


End file.
